John was still bothered by the discovery of the whiskey. Tom had headed straight for it, just like any man who knew it was there. And John knew that Tom knew it was there because he had put it there. It was his whiskey, though it had probably belonged to someone else before Tom got his hands on it. And that could be the cause of the killing. Whiskey. John hadn't seen Haynes. Haynes wasn't one of the dead. But Haynes could have been involved. Kane Wootan was involved. And so Haynes would have been involved, too. And now Kane was dead, and they were being chased by Wootan's brother and, maybe, Haynes as well. Wootan wanted revenge, and Haynes wanted money. Both were good reasons for getting yourself killed.

It was trouble to have a brother like Tom. Bad trouble. But there it was. Tom was his brother, and there was no doing anything about it. He thought of Charlie, off in New Mexico somewhere. Maybe Charlie was the smarter one. He'd just got the hell out. The Old Man's dreams and notions had just never stuck with Charlie. Charlie only wanted to live a quiet life, to marry, to have kids, to get called “mister” someday. It wasn't that he didn't like the Old Man, it was more that they just didn't match up on each other very well. The Old Man had no use for the simple life. He always figured he was destined for more, but he had never found where “more” was at. He was hell-bent on finding it, though, and he figured he would. One day, he would.

Now the Old Man was dead, and Charlie was in New Mexico. John guessed that at some point he'd had a choice between going with Charlie or staying with the Old Man and Tom. He didn't remember making the choice. He didn't actually remember that there had been a choice. Charlie had never offered to take him along when he went. He'd like to have that choice now, but it was gone, and, if it wasn't, Tom would make it for him anyway. He was here with Tom and Sisson because he was John, and that's what John did. Maybe there were no such things as choices. Maybe you just looked back and believed they were there.

Traveling at night was fine in the summertime. And in the times of big moons, too. But in February, with little moonlight, night travel had little to recommend it, except the dark. That and that smart people didn't travel in the dark. Only fugitives and idiots. It was damned cold. There probably wouldn't be any snow tonight, and that was good, because it would make tracking harder. But the clear sky with all its bright stars made the air sharp as nails against their skin, especially their ears and noses.